Bluepulse Bash
by splishsplashxox
Summary: These have all been published on Tumblr, so I finally got around to throwing them up on FanFiction. Various forms of BartxJaime. Bluepulse is a great ship. Rated K for the most part, until Day 7. That's T at the very least. (CH1: Crash, CH2: Future, CH3: AU, CH4: Snack, CH5: Apocalypse, CH6: Win, CH7: Touch)
1. Crash

Bart laughed joyously as the sped forward. It was a crazy new feeling, not being the one doing the speeding for once. As far as Bart's speed standards went, this was slow, but he was still having the time of his life. He gripped the handlebars behind him tightly. As his hands reached the rubber grips, Bart felt another set of hands on top of his.

"Having fun, _carino_?" Jaime asked as he pedaled harder down the boardwalk before rolling down the ramp and onto the sandy beach below. He knew the bike's speed was nothing compared to Bart's, but Jaime could put his full effort into it, right? Of course, he had to adjust his view in front, as Bart was sitting on the bike's handlebars.

Bart laced his fingers with Jaime. "This is crash!" When Jaime seemed to have gained control of the bike on the new terrain, Bart turned his face back towards Jaime. The beach spanned ahead of the bike, but Bart could care less about that view. He was much more concerned with Jaime. The ginger craned his neck towards Jaime, feeling bold.

Jaime smirked and raised his eyebrows before reaching towards Bart, knowing this was the single most romantic and sappy thing he had ever done with his boyfriend. And he liked it. Their lips locked, and Jaime felt like he was on cloud nine. They were gliding free, living in the moment.

Breaking the kiss, Bart gripped the handlebars tighter as he felt the bike begin to wiggle out of control. Before Jaime had a chance to do anything, Bart attempted to throw himself free of the contraption but managed to turn the bike sharply to the left in the process. The tires halted the instant they made contact with the sloppy sand under the water. Bart and Jaime were launched into the surf. Panicking slightly, Bart quickly sputtered back to the surface. When he heard Jaime laughing, Bart was slightly insulted (mostly because he had been scared by something so silly) and called out, "Okay, crashing is not very crash."

Shaking his head, Jaime paddled over to Bart and shook his head. He cupped Bart's face and met his lips once more. At least this was easier in the ocean than it was on a bike.


	2. Future

Jaime quickly removed his coat and put it over Bart's shoulders, rubbing his back gently. "Sorry about the, uh, mix-up there." His brown eyes showed only apology instead of his usual mischief and laughter, now slightly duller than it was many years ago but still ever present.

Chuckling, Bart shook his head and stood up from the pool chair. "Are you kidding? It just makes me want to try harder." He gripped his cane firmly, smiling up at his husband of fifty-four years. Bart did not really need the cane, but ever since the doctor had told Jaime that he needed to use a walker to ease the strain on his back, Bart was happy to slow down slightly and match pace with him.

"But we messed up." Jaime felt terrible that the prank had backfired. Not only had the prank backfired, but Bart had fallen into the pool as a result of the failure. One of these days, the young-at-heart, dynamic duo would manage to knock that pesky Lindsey in the pool. She was the Leaning Pines Retirement Community activity director, and she had tried to set Bart up with some sixty-eight year old widower. No one tried to take Bart from Jaime. Not after all they'd been through, after all their time together.

Bart shook his head again. "You see, my good man, that is where you are wrong. We did not mess up; we just figured out one more incorrect way to execute a table-top trip. And that is progress, which is very crash." He rested his free hand on Jaime's shoulder as they left the community center clubhouse and strolled contentedly towards their cottage. "We've got nothing but time. We'll get her one of these days."

There were literally infinite reasons why Jaime had chosen to spend his life with the incredible soul next to him, but one vital reason was that Bart had insight into Jaime like no one else on this earth. "As long as I'm spending that time with you, it's worth it, _cariño_." Bart's free hand gripped his own, and Jaime still got chills, all these years later.

"That's what I like to hear."


	3. AU

It had been a long day, to say the least. Jaime's body ached and his muscles screamed, but he knew he had given it his all tonight. And for that, he could be proud. The various "Congratulations!" and "Fantastic job out there!" he heard were just icing on the cake. Jaime's mother had always told him that, as long as he could be proud of his work at the end of the day and go home with a smile, then he should be happy.

Putting on his coat and a hat, Jaime popped the collar up to cover his neck from the snow outside. Christmas would most assuredly be white this year. "Excuse me, Jaime?" A tiny voice asked as Jaime walked out the side door of the theater. He looked around and noticed an imp of a boy with reddish brown hair and pleading green eyes.

_Okay, Bart. You've got his attention. Now say something!_ He took a deep breath to calm his nerves before speaking again. "I just wanted to congratulate you on a fantastic performance tonight." The flakes of snow cascaded softly to his hair and gently rested on his eyelashes.

Jaime smiled. "Thank you. I just put my heart into every performance." He was not used to being greeted by fans. His name was so unknown in the dance world… This roll in _Don Quixote_ was, he hoped, a way to really impress people and break through the anonymity. Basilio may not have been the title role, but it was still a large part, not to mention a great chance for Jaime to work with some challenging choreography and really show his skill and technique.

"Well, it shows! I mean, in the second act in the market place when you were dancing with Kitri and you did the _grand jeté_ into that turn series was perfect! And I absolutely loved your emotion––when Basilio stabs himself, you were spot on! Then it was a joke and just perfect! And––"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you for your kind words. But please––I'd like to keep my head quite normal sized!" Jaime laughed, blushing slightly at the compliments. Who knew his characterization had been so effective? "How do you know the show so well?"

Bart blushed. "I've been dancing since I was three. It's my dream to join The American Ballet Company."

Jaime nodded. "Mine too." The snow was really falling now, and Jaime felt chilled to the bone, even with his heavy coat on. "Have you got anywhere to be? Because I know a great coffee shop down the block."

"Sounds crash!" he quipped.

Crash. Jaime liked that. He might have to stick to that word. They walked briskly down the sidewalk, hoping to avoid most of the snow. They ordered two small coffees and sat in the warmest corner of the shop. "So how did you hear about the show?"

"Well, my company had an audition earlier today. Everyone else went to see _Swan Lake_ but I'd heard that you were in this show, and well, I kind of snuck away." Bart blushed. "But I've seen and done _Swan Lake _so many times I could practically do it with my eyes shut. So it's not a big deal, right?"

Jaime had a big fan, apparently. "What's your name? I haven't even asked."

"Bart Allen."

"Well, Bart, I commend you on your knowledge and thank you for your, um, patronage. But New York's a big place. It's dangerous."

"I really wanted to see the show. You and I danced at the same studio twelve years ago."

Jaime thought carefully… When he was eight, he had danced at Aileen Palmer's studio in El Paso. He studied Bart's face closely, trying to analyze every detail.

"You always told me I was going to be something."

When Bart spoke that phrase, his eyes lit up, like the same little clumsy kid he had helped in beginner tap and ballet. Jaime just smiled. "I remember now. Who are you dancing with now?"

"My school's company. We came out here on a few college auditions. But I'm hoping to skip that and go straight into the professional world."

"Well, when you're back out for more auditions, let me know. My apartment's small, but it's a lot safer than a sleazy motel. I don't know too many people, but every contact helps." Jaime quickly pulled out a pen from his coat pocket and scribbled his phone number down on a napkin. "Keep in touch, _hermano._"

Bart smiled. "Most definitely. And will you sign my playbill? I've been meaning to ask all night." He slid the curled up, wet edged book towards Jaime with a million-watt smile on his face.

Jaime had yet to sign an official autograph, so he just scribbled his name quickly. "You've got the original Jaime Reyes autograph there, so keep it safe."

"I will!" Bart held it at arms length, hardly believing he had a professional dancer's autograph. "Thank you. For supporting me those years ago, for the coffee and the conversation… Thank you for inspiring me to keep on going."

"Anytime, _hermano_. I've got your back."


	4. Snack

Bart ripped open the bag and tore into the contents like a rabid wolverine. He was so hungry and needed sustenance quickly. It had felt like an eternity since his last chicken whizee.

As the look of nirvana came over Bart's face, Jaime laughed loudly. "You and your chicken whizees." He tried to snatch the bag away from Bart, cocking an eyebrow playfully. "Do I need to take you to junk food rehab?"

"I can stop eating them anytime I want to," Bart replied back through a mouthful of food, holding the snacks close to his chest. "I just don't want to _right now_!" How could he give up chicken whizees? They were the second-greatest thing to ever happen to him. Not to mention they were delicious.

Jaime laughed again. He did not want to get the smile off Bart's face, but at the same time, his boyfriend was not kissing him, which was not okay. He was impatient.

"What's that look on your face for?" Bart asked, finishing off one bag and starting the next one.

"You still never replaced that bag you stole from me!" Jaime crossed his arms, feigning disappointment.

Bart was concerned that Jaime was upset. He thought quickly. "What if I make it up to you right now?"

"You don't have to go get them… I don't need them that bad!" Jaime laughed, pleased with the outcome. Bart was a bit of a people pleaser, making this game that much more fun.

Smiling wickedly, Bart pushed Jaime back on the couch. He straddled Jaime's hips and shamelessly ground his hips down onto Jaime's.

"_Ah dios, mio_! Bart! The guys will be home any second!" Jaime groaned. He enjoyed it, but public displays of, well, the bedroom were not okay. He knew they would give both of them crap for weeks unend.

"Well, fine then. Let's just move this party to the bedroom." Bart stood and dragged Jaime by the hand.

Jaime smiled and bounded after him. "Just don't get chicken whizee crumbs everywhere, please!"


	5. Apocalypse

With every passing second, Jaime felt trapped. He could not fight the sense that the world seemed to be encroaching around him, a thousand angry eyes judging his every move and hating him all the more for it. Jaime tried to speak up, say anything of his own accord, but nothing escaped the armor. He was a prisoner in his own body. Jaime could not even blink without fighting for control and always losing.

But Jaime knew this war for control had to end when Bart's safety came into question. His mind and heart fought his hands when that blade went to his throat. Everything inside him screamed against it, knowing that he could not afford to lose Bart. Bart was his anchor to happiness and peace. Jaime could not live if that blade moved another inch.

_Stop,_ Jaime said. _I won't do this. It's still my body to control._ With every ounce of effort he could muster, he fought for control. None of this would have ever happened if he had not found the scarab. He would not be trying to fight for control for his own body. He would not be a prisoner to this suit.

But then, he would never have met Bart. And that in itself made all this craziness worth it.

Jaime's brown eyes met Bart's green eyes, and they shared a thousand words in a single glace. Bart was not impeded by the armor in the slightest, though the fear showed in his eyes. Jaime wanted to comfort him, reach out and touch him, but he knew that would only make things worse… It always seemed to. Jaime opened his mouth to say something, but as soon as he did, his arm reached forward and slashed across Bart's throat.

"NO!" Jaime bolted upright, breathing hard and covered in cold sweat. His chest heaved as he tried to calm himself down.

Bart stirred slowly as he sat up and placed a hand on Jaime's shoulder. "Hey… It's okay. You're fine."

Turning to face Bart, Jaime was relieved when he saw that Bart was okay. "Just another nightmare." The third one in four nights.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His eyes were soft and sympathetic, though his voice was tired.

"It's the same one." Jaime curled his long legs up to his chest and hugged his knees. He was tired of this dream. Living as a captive had been hard enough, but reliving it almost every night was haunting.

Bart leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on Jaime's shoulder. "We'll get you through this. It, too, shall pass."

Jaime smiled at Bart and unclenched tense muscles finally. Losing Bart was a world that Jaime would not live in. But having him here for comfort and support, well that was just fine. He followed suit with Bart and laid back down, carefully pulling himself close to Bart's body and fitting against him perfectly. Jaime carefully wrapped his arms around Bart's torso, linking his hands together at his chest. Bart's hands gently held them there, feeling quite content. Jaime's world may have ended every night in his dreams, but these moments, this connection, reminded him that they were only dreams. Reality was a lot brighter.


	6. Win

Holding tightly onto the hands of Jaime, Bart did his best to keep from squealing out loud. The skateboard rolled gently along the road underneath his feet. The idea of moving without moving his feet was so foreign to the speedster, so he was breaking a lot of his own rules by participating in such an activity. He knew he was safe as long as Jaime was around, though.

"Ready to give up?" Jaime asked, mocking slightly.

"Never!" Bart challenged back, determined to overcome this fear of the skateboard. Of course, his determination did come from the wager between the boys. If Bart learned to skateboard, then Jaime had to take him to get fresh chicken whizees in a suit and tie. If Bart chickened out, then Jaime got to remind Bart of his lack of manhood by forcing Bart to perform a dance from Swan Lake in a tutu. He wanted those chicken whizees. But more importantly, he was not a good dancer.

Jaime just laughed. "Well then you must really be ready to try this on your own!" He slowly released his grasp on Bart's soft hands––hands he hoped did not get beaten up by Bart falling and scraping them up.

Once Jaime's grip was released, Bart felt like leaping off the board and running back to Jaime. But he was not quite ready to give up just yet. No, Bart really wanted this win. Chicken whizees aside, this was a matter of personal pride. So, as he rolled slowly away, Bart did his best to relax and absorb the shock in his knees, like Jaime told him.

"You're getting it! Now try to go faster."

Reaching to the imaginary hot lava, Bart stretched a foot to the pavement and accelerated forward once more. So far, so good. No one was hurt, he was rolling along comfortably, and the board was not trying to kill him yet. Maybe there was hope. Bart dared to turn back towards Jaime with a grin plastered on his face. Of course, the instant he did, the board hit a curb and Bart tumbled into the bushes.

Jaime quickly ran over and helped Bart up. "You okay, _cariño_?" He brushed the leaves off Bart's arms and back with great caution.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Bart grumbled. He wanted to win so badly.

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, you won."

"And why's that?"

"Because you got somewhere, didn't you?"

Bart just smiled. "Does this mean I get to see you in a suit?"

"You bet!" Jaime quipped as he pressed his lips to Bart's. As much as he hated that suit, for Bart, he would do it in a moment.


	7. Touch

As the quickly shut the bedroom door, Bart stood on tip toes as he reached his mouth to Jaime's. That had easily been one of the longest dinners Bart had ever sat through, much as he enjoyed being with the team. His mind had been elsewhere (along with his hands). Jaime being so close, so calm, even aloof was enough to drive Bart insane.

Just as Bart reached up to Jaime and was about to make contact with his lips, Jaime easily slipped away and walked towards the back wall to shut the blinds. Bart watched him, shamelessly letting his eyes linger in his backside. Quickly appearing behind him, Bart reached his hands up to Jaime's hips and gently tugged at his belt loops. He reached up on tip toes again and breathed on Jaime's neck, about to nibble on the soft skin, when Jaime once again darted out from his grasp.

_So that's how he wants to play, okay._ Bart smirked and tore his shirt off quickly as he chased after Jaime, who was sitting on the bed, his long legs dangling over the edge. Squeezing onto the tiny bed, Bart crawled towards Jaime. His eyes were wide with desire. With each move forward, his hands gripped the sheets like a hunting lion. Bart had never felt more determined in his life to have his way than in this moment. Just as Bart's right hand was about to make contact with Jaime's thigh, Jaime stood up and walked across the room, fiddling with his phone and his wallet and other various knick knacks.

Bart could not help but growl in frustration as Jaime blew right past him. What was his game tonight? His green eyes reflected the hungry drive that dictated his actions. Watching Jaime meander so carelessly, almost remote, awakened a righteous force in Bart like nothing else did. He wanted his way tonight, for once. Crouching on the end of the bed, Bart narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched Jaime slowly pull his shirt off. Every abdominal seemed to ripple as the fabric passed over it, his tanned skin shamelessly showing each muscle. "Damn it, Jaime!" Bart leaped off the bed and onto Jaime's back, clinging like a spider monkey to his chest and locking his ankles around Jaime's hips. Before the Latino even had a chance to say something or pull Bart off his back (which, admittedly, was not hard), Bart grabbed Jaime's face and turned it towards his, pulling their lips together for a passionate kiss. Bart's tongue forced its way into Jaime's mouth. His small hands pulled at Jaime's dark hair. The small speedster was delighted when he felt one of Jaime's hands reach up and run up and down his torso. Goosebumps formed on his skin.

Jaime broke the kiss momentarily to drop Bart down on the bed as he joined him, crawling atop his small frame. Refraining from contact with Bart for so long––dinner all the way until now––had nearly broken him. But he knew that his touch drove Bart wild. So his lack of touch seemed to only make Bart crazier, just as he thought it would. He smirked slightly as he bent down to Bart's chest and kissed every inch of skin. The thrill heightened when Bart's hands tangled into his hair once more.

Bart's breathing quickened as Jaime's head descended lower and lower on his body. Having his hands in Jaime's hair gave Bart the power he had never experienced in such activities, and he liked it. So when Jaime's teeth pulled at Bart's jeans, it took all of Bart's self control not to rip off the pants and boxers just to feel his mouth. Jaime's hands worked aggressively and slowly as he undressed the smaller boy all the while smirking at him. Bart's eyes were the size of dinner plates as he watched Jaime's hands. Once the jeans had reached his ankles, Bart threw his body weight at Jaime and ripped his boxers off, kicking off the pesky clothing before undoing the belt on Jaime's pants with his teeth and ripping the rest of his clothes off quickly.

"Demanding tonight, _cariño_," Jaime pointed out. But Bart clearly did not hear him as the cinnamon-haired boy ground his bare hips into Jaime's and bit his neck. Jaime's breath caught in his throat as his eyes rolled up in pleasure and ecstasy. "Clearly I need to tease you more often."

Bart smiled, sucking on the skin on Jaime's neck, digging his fingernails into Jaime's shoulders. If it drove them both this crazy, Bart had no problem with being teased. He moaned into Jaime's neck as his lover shamelessly grabbed his ass and leaned him back on the bed. The speedster was happy to relinquish control momentarily as Jaime's hands found Bart's hair, unruly and now covered in sweat.

As Jaime's mouth met his, Bart bit Jaime's lips and tugged gently. But Jaime pulled away and lowered his mouth to Bart's earlobe, tenderly pulling the skin before licking the skin along his jaw. Bart's nails dug harder into Jaime's back, raking down the skin. Jaime winced slightly and moaned into Bart's neck as he felt a small trickle of blood. Clearly the foreplay was getting dangerous.

With cruel slowness, Jaime's head lowered down Bart's body to his manhood, his tongue working slowly up and down the impressive length. Bart grabbed Jaime's hair once more and pulled his head towards himself. Jaime cocked an eyebrow at Bart, locking his gaze on those green eyes as he lowered his mouth onto Bart. Between the teasing and the touching and kissing, Bart lost control after a few minutes and managed to pull some of Jaime's hair out in the process.

"Is this angry sex?" Bart asked as he pushed Jaime down.

"Not quite. I didn't make it that far," Jaime quickly replied as wrapped a hand around Bart's neck and drummed his fingers on his pale skin and their lips met once more for a kiss. Whatever kind of sex this was, Jaime had absolutely no problems with it. Not if it drove him this wild. As Bart's mouth grew bolder, so did Jaime's hands. They caressed Bart's back, his thighs, his ass. His fingers grew closer and closer to Bart's most protected region. With his free hand, he tilted Bart's chin towards him. They both knew the question. Words were useless at this point. Bart just nodded at Jaime before his arms wrapped around Jaime's neck, his fingers tickling Jaime's skin.

Jaime reached into the nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube and quickly covered himself and Bart with the stuff. He threw the bottle aside and grabbed Bart's hips, working his way inside, inch by inch. He hated causing pain like this, but he knew Bart would hurt him worse if they did not get to have their fun. Bart's eyes were shut tightly as his nails dug into Jaime's skin once more. Jaime brought his lips to Bart's, their lips sliding against one another. It was hard for Jaime to focus on his task at hand when Bart's tongue was playing with his. Once Bart was comfortable, Jaime picked up his pace and did his best to express his pleasure quietly, having to kiss Bart more just to keep their volume down. Their breathing grew faster. Jaime could feel Bart's heart racing in his chest, as he was sure Bart could feel his. His own nails dug into Bart's hips as he neared his release. "Are you still mad at me?" Jaime asked breathlessly.

"Whatever you want," Bart responded, working the tips of his fingers down Jaime's back.

"Tell me, then!"

"Damn it, Jaime!"

Jaime could not help himself. Hearing the carefree, easy going Bart take charge was just too much. He exploded in waves of pleasure, collapsing onto Bart's body. The sweat rolled down both of their faces as they tried to catch their breath. "Please get bossy more often."

"That's crash and all, but you're not allowed to stop touching me once we get past that door."


End file.
